He Didn't Know
by Sousukes-Girl
Summary: Soul never knew why Maka had such issues with her family; why it was so hard for her to trust men. AU Family history for Maka; Rated M for mature themes. Some comfort from our favorite weapon to our favorite meister. I'm not certain if this is over yet or not.


**AN:** Okay, I do not own Soul Eater, nor do I make any money off of this.

This is a little dark, but for some reason, it was just begging to be written. I hope you all enjoy it.

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Soul never knew why Maka had such issues with her family; why it was so hard for her to trust men. They had only been partners for a few years, but even he could see she had problems, she was broken. She had never told him, but he had his suspicions.

He often saw the way she flinched at certain sounds, like the creaking of a door; or how she refused medical treatment of any kind from Stein, seeking instead help from Nygus. He witnessed her shudder on more than one occasion when Black*Star or even Kid brushed up against her arm, more so when they were out in a crowd and it was an older guy; utter revulsion. He never mentioned it to her or questioned it, but he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists when he thought about the possibilities.

He never knew why her parents had split up; nor why she so eagerly decided to move out of her father's house when her mother left to see the world. She lived on her own, for years, before they met and he finally, painstakingly, got her to agree to move in with him. He finally convinced her when he brought logic into the equation, it was simply too much money for them both to pay for an apartment; easier to pool their resources and split the cost of groceries and rent. Every night he heard the click of the lock on her bedroom door, but he could hear her cry in her dreams. He may not have been told the reason why she had issues with her family, but he now had an idea.

They had just completed a mission; a hard one. They never expected this pre-kishan to still look and act so human. Usually, by the time they were called in, the person-turned-kishan was so far gone, it was little better than a wild animal; a rabid dog that needed to be put down before it spread it's disease.

This one spoke in full sentences and looked more or less like a human; there were still some things about him that were _off_; His eyes were completely black and his mouth was too large, spreading into a sickly grin over too many teeth. His hands were larger than they should be, and ended in sharp dagger-like nails. He was still of average height and build, with a humanoid form and with shaggy red hair, instead of being fully monstrous as they usually were.

He was wearing what once was a black suit, with a shirt and tie. The shirt now had so many stains, it was hard to tell the original color; there were brownish splatters and splotches all over it, in varying sizes. Soul belatedly realized it was blood, the dried blood of his victims. Some were so dark as to almost be black, but some were new, the bright blood of a fresh kill. The creatures dress shoes were once nice and polished, but were now covered in mud and blood, dirt and grass caked into the crevices and dried leather. His pants, no longer with a crisp crease down the center of each leg, were torn in many places and worn through in others. The tie had managed to receive the least amount of damage, it was tattered around the edges, and dulled, but the contrast of the yellow smiley face and the remainder of his macabre clothing was too much. It sickened Soul. It was so un-cool for some businessman who had once worn outlandish novelty ties to become this monster.

He knew something was off with Maka going into this fight as she wasn't completely focused. She had been distracted all day, and he'd asked repeatedly if she even wanted to take on this fight. They could go home, order take-out and watch their favorite movies. Kid was more than willing to take this wannabe kishan, and there was never any doubt if Black*Star wanted to get into a fight. She had insisted though; said it would help clear her head, allow her to focus and release pent up energy. There was a test later this week, and she really needed to study, but had been, distracted. This would help, she needed this; and who was he to deny her something she needed, he never could.

When she missed such a wide opening, and wasn't able to keep her grip on him, he knew, he _knew_ this had been a mistake. Nothing good would come of this, he thought, flying through the air. He changed into his human form right before hitting the ground, landing in a crouch with both hands on the ground in front of him, allowing him to push off the cobblestones to run back to his meister.

He was in perfect form, as he hadn't expended any physical energy in this fight yet, and was able to quickly reach Maka and the kishan. He never expected what he saw upon his return; Maka, standing stock still, a deer caught in headlights. Murderer Patrick Bateman was right behind her, with one large hand encircling her neck and the other groping her breast. His distorted face was right next to her's, nuzzling into her neck behind her ear. He quickly realized his meister didn't even see him, only fifteen feet in front of her, as she was somewhere else entirely. He called out to her, but either she couldn't hear him or she was so terrified that she couldn't respond.

Maka's green eyes were locked open in terror, her small mouth slightly opened, sucking in short spurts of air. He saw sweat beading on her forehead and all of the tendons in her neck rigidly stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding skin. She was drained of all color with dark smudges under her eyes and pale lips quivering. Her entire body trembled when Bateman started reaching his hand lower towards her short skirt. Soul took this all in in moments and sprung into action when he saw the kishans hand dipping lower.

Enraged he transformed his arm into an onyx and crimson blade, rushing forward in quick controlled movements. He didn't allow his anger, _burning hatred_, to cloud his judgment. Leaping into the air he lunged directly towards his meister, deftly grabbing Bateman by the neck with his hand, harshly ripping him away from Maka, pushing him backwards. Swinging around him with his forward momentum, he dug his bladed arm in the front of the kishans throat, planted his feet squarely in his back and pushed off with all of his might, efficiently separating his head from his shoulders.

As soon as the kishans hold on her was released, he saw Maka fall to the ground, legs splayed to each side. That's how he found her just moments later, with one hand clutching the clothing at her chest, the other planted on the cobblestones in front of her, holding her small frame up, gasping for air, trembling. _Trembling_.

He started to rush forward to make sure she was okay, when he realized she looked like an animal, a frightened skittish little animal. He stopped in his tracks, putting both hands in front of him in the universal placating gesture, slowly moving towards her.

"Maka?" He breathed.

She didn't acknowledge his presence at all, as she slipped both arms around herself and slowly rocked backwards and forwards, silent tears running down her pale cheeks. It was enough to break his heart, and he quickly rushed forward to place his hand on her shoulder when she exploded into sudden movement, pushing backwards to get out of his reach. She scooted back until her back solidly thudded against the wall of the building behind her, with one leg bent, knee in the chest, the other splayed out in front of her. Her hands were fisted at the ground and acted as leverage to push herself further, as if she could disappear into the brick wall.

Making shushing sounds he slowly walked towards her, but she just stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Abruptly changing tactics, he shifted to his left, let his hands fall normally to each side. He began to hum a soothing tune while he slid down the wall by her side, not right against her, but close enough that he could reach out to loosely grasp her hand in his. He allowed their entwined hands to fall to the ground between them, all the while humming softly, with his eyes closed and his head of unruly white hair resting on the cool brick behind him.

He didn't know how long they sat like that, but he could feel the difference as Maka slowly began to come back to herself. Her breathing evened out and the tremors subsided. He cracked an eye and let it cut to her to see her large eyes blink owlishly and the color return to her cheeks slowly, though not fully. She was still pale, but not ghastly so, like she had been before. The tears had dried, leaving small tracks down her cheeks. Her hand squeezed his reflexively before she quickly gasped and dropped his hand.

"Come on, Maka, let's go home." He stood and dusted off his jeans.

She nodded, but still didn't speak, not taking his proffered hand, instead using the building behind her to steadily make her way to a standing position. She wouldn't look him in the eyes as she strode purposefully towards his bike which was around the corner and down a dark alley.

He jogged to catch up, but decided to stay a pace behind her, to allow her the space she needed to get in control of herself again. All of a sudden she stopped, straightened ramrod still and turned to face him.

"Did you get his soul?" Her voice was devoid of emotion, blank, clinical.

"Nah, I'm not certain I could eat that one." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Ea…eat it. It can't have been for nothing." With that she did an about face and continued to the bike.

"I'll wait for you in the alley." She tossed over her shoulder.

He was uncertain what to do; he really didn't want to eat that soul, somehow he felt it would be slimy going down, but he didn't want what she went through for this one to go to waste either. He jogged back to the red soul, snagged it in hand, plugged his nose and downed it in one go. Choking and sputtering, he regained his breathe. He logically knew it didn't taste any different than any other soul, but somehow it was different.

He ran, catching up with her at his bike. She was hugging her arms around herself again and gave the occasional shake in the night's chilled air. He hadn't realized how chilly it had gotten, and Maka didn't have her usual ankle length jacket on. He took his leather jacket off and dumped it around her shoulders without a word. He then jumped on and awaited Maka to join him. It took longer than usual, but she finally swung her leg over and took a seat behind him. He waited until she was grabbing the edges of the seat behind her before he revved the bike into action, taking them home. He was surprised when her small arms snaked around his waist and completely shocked when she hugged herself to him with all of her might, pressing the side of her face into his back.

He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt, and felt her small frame wracked with the sobs she was trying to hold back. He took one hand off the handle and placed it over hers, interlocking the fingers and holding on tight. As they were nearing they apartment that they shared, he realized she was no longer crying and that her grip on him had loosened somewhat. He removed his hand from hers as they pulled up to their building, stopping the bike and parking.

She slowly released her hold on him and dismounted from the bike, reaching into Soul's jacket pocket to retrieve her house keys, that she had placed there earlier. He watched her amble her way up the stairs, quietly following behind her. She fumbled with the keys, but finally inserted the right key into the slot, unlocking the door and walking in. She continued straight to her bathroom.

"I'm going to jump in the shower. Do you mind if we do take-out tonight?" Came her small voice.

"Ah, yeah, that's fine. What do you want? I'll go ahead and order." He responded just as quietly.

"Mm, you know what I like. I trust you."

Her eyes widened at her last statement and with that she disappeared into the restroom and he heard the shower kick on. He stood, looking at the door hiding his partner from view, wishing he knew what to do. He contemplated calling Tsubaki, but thought Maka may not want to chat about her horrid experience with anyone. If he knew her, and let's be honest, he did, then she would clam up. She would end up reading a book in her room, on the bed, with her back to the door and the lock firmly in place. She would most likely stay in there for hours, and not venture forth until he banged on her door enough times to let her know dinner was here.

He thought about the look in her eyes when that monster's claws raked down her body, the utter fear, the knowing realization, and decided he wasn't going to let her shut him out anymore. They were resonating just as well as they always had, but he could tell that she was holding a bit of herself back each time; never fully letting him in. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, until he could stand it no longer. Taking a deep calming breath, he realized he'd walked to the bathroom door and had placed his palm flat against it. He jerked slightly, as he didn't recall doing that. Sighing, he turned on his heel and walked to the kitchen drawer where they kept their take-out menus.

He found her favorite, though rather expensive restaurant, and placed a large order. While he was waiting on the food to arrive and Maka to relinquish her hold on the restroom he paced, trying to figure out how he was going to deal with this. Usually he didn't plan; he just went with his gut, that's the cool way to handle it. But he realized this was important, and he was terrified of messing everything up. He knew she had no trust in the majority of men, and a wavering trust in him at times, but he had to get her to open up to him and tell him what was wrong. He couldn't fix something that he didn't understand.

The loud knock on the door startles him out of his dark brooding. Glancing at the clock he realizes with a start that it has been over an hour since Maka started her shower. He sighs again and heads to the door to pay for dinner.

He places the food on the table and grabs the required paperware and cutlery to consume the meal. Looking at the drab set up, he grabs a few bowls and dumps each item into its own serving dish. He then snags the nice plates and glasses and uses those instead of their paper and plastic counterparts. He throws all of the paper containers in the garbage and swipes two of Maka's nice candles from the living room, placing them in the center of the table. He glances at the clock again before heading to the restroom, where he promptly knocks.

"Hey, the food's gonna get cold. I know you're hungry; you barely touched your lunch today after your dad left. Come on, get out here, I gotta take a leak."

He hears the water shut off, the curtain pulled back and the towel pulling free of its holder on the wall; along with a small sniffle. Before he knows it, she's opened the door and scurries off to her room, closing the door behind her.

Click.

And now she's locked herself in her bedroom.

"Don't stay in there forever. I'm serious. You know take-out is never good reheated." With that he walks into the foggy bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

It's not long before he's washing his hands and heading back out to the table to eat. Despite eating that disgusting soul, he's ravenous. He waits at the table patiently until finally she emerges from her room. Her cheeks are still pink from the heat of the shower and her damp hair is in two braids framing her face. She doesn't look him in the eye, but gives a small smile before quickly taking her seat.

"What's with the candles and nice plates?" She queries.

He shrugs his response, noting that she's fidgeting slightly.

"Eh, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but I've just realized that I'm going to have to clean all of the dishes now." He plops into his seat and starts adding various foods to his plate.

"Hey, this is J.J. Cheng's, isn't it?" Her smile brightens as she loads up her plate.

He notices that she doesn't have nearly as much on her plate as she usually would, but decides against commenting on it for now. He suddenly realizes that he needs to ease her into this conversation, and starts telling her a story about Black*Star's antics at lunch the other day. Her laugh isn't quite what it should be, but it's genuine, and they both relax somewhat.

He asks about the latest book she's had her nose in and if it's a series or stand alone, commenting offhand that it wasn't one of her usual authors. She looks up sharply, clearly surprised that he would notice such a thing.

"Wait, you know my favorite authors? Who are they?" She pierces him with her stare.

"Come on, that's easy Maka. Make this more of a challenge: Eden, Paroe and Jeffreys." He ticks off his fingers.

She glances around the apartment to see if any of her books are out, giving it away, but doesn't spot any.

"Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, what is my favorite book?" She asks smugly.

"That's a trick question; you don't have a singular favorite. It is two series, the first being The Legends Series and the second being The Dark Trilogy." He doesn't notice her shocked expression as he's hell bent on shoving his face full of the noodles on his plate, another of Maka's favorites, he thinks to himself.

"How, how do you know all of this? I've never told anyone any of this." She's staring right at him.

He shrugs it off, "It's just things I've noticed."

She squirms uncomfortably in her chair for a moment, then realizes that every item of food on the table are also her favorites. It's true Soul likes some of them, but she doesn't spy _any_ of his favorites; krab rangoon, house special lo mein, teriyaki chicken.

"Soul?"

He looks up slowly at the way she says his name. He catches an odd expression on her face before she looks to the candles in the center of the table.

"Are these my strawberries and cream candles?"

Thinking he's in for it now, he cringes while answering, "Um, I think so? Why, is that a problem? I can blow em' out and put them back, I just thought it might be nice and all…"

He trails off and she jumps in to reassure him, "Oh, no. It's perfectly fine, they're my favorites. They are all my favorites." She finishes with a bit of wonder.

"Huh? What do you mean 'they are all your favorites?'"

"Well, all of the food, the candles; you remembering the authors and books, _you_. It's just, it's just it's all my favorite things." She trails off.

"I realize you've had a bad day, and I know I can be a pain at times, but I didn't want you to have to be stressed even more. I thought that maybe if you're surrounded by some favorites, it might be easier."

"That's really thoughtful, thank you." She whispers.

"I know it's something you've probably never talked about, but I feel it's something we _should_. I can tell when we resonate that you hold something back; it's not all of you, and I've never pried because I realize it's incredibly personal. I thought, I'd _hoped_, that the more you trusted me and the closer we became as friends, that you would confide in me. I don't know specifics, and I don't need to if you do not feel like you are able to share, but I feel I need to know. I think it would do you good to be able to share this burden with someone; with me. Can you?" He spoke quietly, haltingly.

Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her plate, hands fisting in her lap, body completely rigid. She takes a deep breath before she whispers, "I don't know if I can. You'll look… it won't be the same between us. I'm not sure if I'm ready."

He stands up slowly so as not to spook her, and ghosts around the table to crouch by her side, resting one had on the table and the other on the back of her chair.

"I will not look at you any differently than I already do. Maka, I need you to trust me, trust us, enough to be able to talk about it." He takes her small hand in his own, and gently rises into an upright position, pulling her along with him.

He leads her to the couch and helps her get settled, pulling the light afghan from the back of the couch around her shoulders. He then pulls the large chair closer to her and sinks into its depths. Neither one say anything for some time. Soul sits there growing worried that she doesn't trust him enough with this, and she sits there, fidgeting, wondering if she can trust him with this.

Finally, without looking up she admits, "I was abused; for years. Sometimes it would be months between, ah, events, and then sometimes it would be every night. It started when I was young, only four years old. I didn't know it was wrong until years later, and then I started locking my door. But it never mattered; he could somehow always get into my room. One day there was a story on the news, about a girl being sexually assaulted, and without thinking I said something about it. My mama was shocked to say the least. She wasn't home much, even then, as her job would take her away for weeks at a time. How could she have known, right? She asked who had done this to me, never suspecting the truth. 'Papa,' I told her, going back to my homework." She pauses, looking up at the ceiling, tears hinting in her eyes before continuing.

"She confronted him that night, and he denied it, still does to this day. But, he'll give me a look, warning me not to say a word. Mama never believed him, but could prove nothing. I begged not to press charges, not for any love of Papa, but for fear of knowledge. I couldn't let anyone know. It was, was, mortifying. Papa is a powerful man, Death's Weapon. If word got out, no one would actually believe me, and then they would think I was a vengeful girl, seeking attention through my parent's divorce. Or if they did believe me, then they would pity me. I didn't want pity; I wanted it all to go away. I want it all to go away. Why? Why won't it go away?"

She looks up with tears in her eyes, and he can't help but shift forward to rub the moisture away with his thumbs, both hands cupping her face, his heart breaking for her at her painful admission.

"I believe you, and I don't pity you. I wish it had never happened, but I can't make it go away. You don't have to ever see your father again if you don't want to, I can see to that. Has it, has it happened since you moved out?" He hates to ask, but he has to know. If it was somehow still happening, he didn't know if he would be able to control his reactions.

"Not since I moved in with you. Not for lack of trying though." Her hands come up to grip both of his, still cradling her face.

"Is this why you cannot trust men? Why you shy away from their touch?" Her hands pull his down until they are resting laxly in her hands on her lap.

"Yeah. I don't trust men, though you've earned it. Black*Star and Kid are working their way in there, though I don't think I'll ever be able to trust anyone like I do you. I've never told anyone this before, other than Mama, and then she left. I thought that I wasn't able to be loved. I'm tainted, no one wants to be with someone like me." A few tears escaped, and her hands tightened around his, almost as if she were trying to keep him from leaving her too.

"No, don't say that, Maka. This wasn't your fault. Your father, your father, well, he's a sick bastard!" He exclaimed.

"I always feel so, dirty, and unwanted. My mom left me with him, knowing what he is; what was she thinking? Am I so unloved? Why didn't she protect me? No one protected me and I'm weak, I am so weak. I try to be strong, but I'm not, I'm not brave!" She cries out.

"You are mine to protect now, Maka. Look at me," he frees one hand and places it gently under her small chin, lifting until crimson is staring into viridian, "Nothing, I repeat, _nothing_, about you is dirty, shameful, tainted, unwanted, or unloved. You are perfect just the way you are Maka. Trust me when I say this to you."

"But, I, I'm not pure anymore. He, he took that from me. No one will want me when they find _that_ out! How could they?" Tears escape her eyes and trail down her soft cheeks to her pointed chin, falling onto her lap. She squeezes her eyes shut, and leans forward, turning her head slightly from him.

His heart stutters at just how broken she is, and the knowledge of just how far her depraved father had taken things. "Hey, you stop that train of thought right there. Your father didn't take that away from you, that is something that only _you_ can give. It's not just physical Maka, though I can understand how you could see it as such. It's emotional and spiritual, and a decision that only you can make to give away to the person you love. When you decide the time is right, and you put your whole heart into it, that's when you give yourself to someone. It hasn't been taken from you, it can't be, it's something you willingly give; a part of your soul." He hates the way he sounds, like he's imploring her to understand him; begging. But he has to make her see the truth.

"But, isn't it the physical aspect of it that men need and want? It's not the emotions that go with it, it's the pure physicality of the act, right?" She shyly looks away, cheeks stained a bright pink.

"Uh, well, as cool as I am, I have to say that from my, ah, limited, experience, that's not true. It's not supposed to be about lust, or just the physical side of it, it's supposed to come from love and mutual desire. It's the connection between the souls that gives the act any meaning." Now he's looking at his hands in embarrassment, with his cheeks aflame.

She raises her head to see if he's being serious or just teasing her, but based on the discomfort she obviously sees, she believes he means it. Her heart swells at the tought.

"All of that was so not cool, why isn't Tsubaki here for this?" Soul quietly laments.

"Then why, Soul? If I'm not so unlovable, then why did she leave me with him? It makes me sad and angry at the same time. I can't reconcile the two feelings in my head. How can I love her so much, but be so mad at her for abandoning me?" She releases his hands, and stands abruptly, almost knocking Soul out of his chair in the process.

"Hey, careful! That was un-cool, Maka, almost knocking me over!" Soul catches himself from falling from his precarious position.

She turns around, looking at him sheepishly, "Oh, sorry! Are you okay?"

"Ha, yeah, I'm fine." He stands and faces her, "Look, I understand how you feel about your mom. She's your mom and you love her, but you want to know how she could love you in return if she left you in such a dire situation with your dad. It's not an easy answer, but it's possible that your mom was ashamed of herself for allowing that to happen without her knowledge. Not to mention, well, he wasn't seeking enjoyment with _her_, so she feels not only like a terrible mother but also a terrible wife."

He takes a deep breath and plunges on, "Maka, I know you've always looked up to her, but you are far stronger than she ever was. You've continued to live through it, while she ran away to get away from her problems. It's also very probable that she simply couldn't look you in the eye after having failed you so miserably. No matter the reason your mom left, it's not because of you, but because of her. She left to sort out her own life, because she wasn't strong enough to work it out, here, with you." He's a little embarrassed by all that he said, though he knows she needs to hear it.

He pushes the chair back to its original location and plops down on the couch, motioning her to him. He can see the indecision in her eyes, as she contemplates moving to his side. She worries her lip and he reaches his hand out, hoping she'll grasp it and he can pull her down to sit next to him. He's terrified that after her revelation, she will try to push him away to rebuild her walls of mistrust and difference, but is shocked when she takes two quick steps to grasp his hand and sit down next to him.

She weasels her arm around his waist, and tucks her head into his shoulder, sighing, "Thank you, Soul. You are the best friend I could ever have. Um, I don't like him, but will you promise not to kill him? I really don't want anyone else to know."

"Man, that's not cool. I was planning his demise as we speak. I had some pretty inventive ideas too, I think you would have been proud with my out-of-the-box methods." He laughs, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I'm sure I would be, Soul, but seriously, please don't make this a bigger deal than I already have. I just want it to go away, I want to put it behind me and move on. I know that with you, I can do that. You are exactly what I need in my life, a man that I can trust. You have already begun to heal me, I feel lighter already."

"Fine, anything for you. I'll let him live for now. But, so help me, if he ever tries anything ever again, or anyone for that matter, you better tell me, understood?" He shifts her so that he is able to look her straight in the eye.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Um, wanna watch a movie?" She smiles brightly.

He would do anything to prolong that smile, "Sure, whatever you want."

She races off to snag one of her favorite films while he leans back into the couch, contemplating. He wasn't certain he's handled this in the best way, but he hoped that it had somehow lightened her load. He was horrified at the life that she had lead up to this point, the weight that she had carried for so long. Her childhood had been cruelly snatched from her, her innocence shattered, her family crushed, her trust ripped from her at such a young age.

No wonder she disappeared into her books as often as she did, it was a true and literal escape from reality. He hoped that he was able to be there for her in the way that she needed, that she could trust and depend upon him. He would do all that was possible not to break that trust or further destroy her self-image; he realized a few years ago what his careless joking words did to her, and really reined in the teasing about her body. He knew he only meant it in jest, but he finally realized she didn't know it was a joke. He hadn't made fun of her in ages, and had made sure that Black*Star didn't continue the trend either. He'd stopped the jokes when he had started putting all of the pieces together, and was miserable that he'd hurt her feelings and further trod upon her self-esteem.

He hoped now that he could make it up to her. Tonight was a start, he realized. She'd let him in, and he now had the knowledge he needed to help put her back together. She thought she was broken and tarnished, but he was going to prove to her that she was anything but. She had pulled through her past and made a better future. She trusted, on her own, more and more people. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for, and he knew that with his help and the help of their friends, that she would move past this. She would never forget, but she would be able to live her life to the fullest, he would make sure of it. Maybe one day she could forgive her parents for their actions and then forgive herself for thinking so harshly of herself.

His thoughts are interrupted as she bounds back in the room, dvd in hand. She rushes to turn the television and dvd player on, and places the disc in the tray when it's available to do so. She turns around and is ready to settle on the chair when he motions her to sit with him on the couch. She cocks her head to the side for but a moment, and decision made, joins him. He snags a pillow and tosses it on his lap as she arranges herself next to him. He snags her shoulders and pulls her back towards him, so she's resting her head on the pillow, prompting her to lift her feet onto the couch to fully lie down. He pulls the discarded afghan onto her and helps her rearrange it so she's fully covered, before he grabs the remote to start whatever movie she's picked out.

She snuggles into him as he hits play, and distracted, he doesn't catch the title of the film as it displays on the screen. He's shocked when the beginning credits role, as this is one of his favorite movies of all time.

"Did you put this in for me?" He questions, surprised.

"No, silly, this is one of my favorites. Hush, this is the best intro to a movie, probably ever!" She throws her finger up to cover his mouth awkwardly, shocking him into silence, before he grabs her hand and rests them both, tangled upon her waist.

"You are so awesome, Maka. Leave it to you to love old black and white mysteries. Noir is simply where it's at. Coolest chick ever."

Before long he can tell that she's fallen asleep; her breathing has evened out and her hand isn't holding his with as much force as it was before. He leans in and places a gentle kiss to her temple before brushing her soft hair out of her face. He sighs when he realizes that he's fallen, and fallen hard. He's okay with that, he decides, as she sighs softly in sleep, snuggling further into him. He leans his head back and falls asleep to the sounds of his favorite meister and favorite movie.

* * *

**AN:** Yeah, so that's it. I've written a bit more, it's a bit lighter so far, but I'm trying to figure out if I should continue this at all. Let me know what you think. I won't take offense to anything you say, I need critiques and/or encouragement. I'm not a huge fan of Spirit, but I don't hate him. It's just this seemed to fit her distrust of men and the family issues she has, etc. Please review, I would greatly appreciate it.

Thanks,

Sg


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